


The Color of Water

by Sookiestark



Series: Colors of Westeros [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dragons, F/M, Fluff, Kisses, Waterfall Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-01-24 07:48:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18567034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: Three times Targaryens visited Winterfell





	1. Silver

“What is the color of water?”

It was a sudden thought that she had brought on by looking at this natural wonder. Alysanne often had sudden thoughts. It was her natural curiosity and intelligence. If she had not been alone with Jaehaerys, she probably would have not said it out loud. But she had. The words had slipped out into the cold air of the North

She and her husband, King Jaehaerys, had taken their dragons flying through the wolfswood. It had been a sudden, unplanned event, spontaneous like when they were young on Dragonstone, newly crowned and newly married. It was almost ten years ago. Sometimes, she wondered where the time went. It slipped away from her like the fast-moving water on the rocks. 

“What does it matter, Aly? What does it matter?” He said against her, laughing.

Queen Alysanne didn’t like the slightly dismissive way he laughed but she was used to her love not quite understanding her. Yesterday, Jaehaerys had arrived at Winterfell and she was glad he had finally made it. Last night in their bed, she had told him of all that she had seen her in this great white wilderness. 

This morning, as the dawn was breaking, he had woken her, his lips against her ear, “Let’s go see the North. Aly, show me.”

Alyssanne had kissed him. In the white light of dawn, she had climbed on her husband and made love for the third time that night in the dawn. She hoped she might be pregnant. She knew it would be strange to say but it was almost as if she knew she was. This would her fifth.

Then, they had dressed quickly and went flying Vermithor and Silverwing. Flying next to him, she realized how good and right it was to fly beside him on dragonback. Let the ones who called them abominations go to the Seven Hells. They could not know how perfect it was with him. Not that she didn’t get angry or frustrated with him. But the connection she felt when he was near made up for all the imperfections and challenges of their relationship.

From the air, she had seen this waterfall in the wolfswood and landed to see it closer. It was stunning with the snow all around the falls. The jagged black rocks jutting up from the stream of water rushing down the cliff of rocks. She heard Jaehaerys land behind her and come near her. There was mist from the falls and the sun broke through the grey skies and hit the water. Involuntarily, she had smiled to see the beauty in this wild place. 

 

Leaning back against him, Alysanne felt him breathe the scent of lavender from her hair. She smiled. She had missed him. Alysanne was glad he was back with her. Flying beside him was one of her great pleasures. There was a loss when he was not near her. She had her ladies’ court, her books, her music and musicians, but life was always better with Jaehaerys near. 

The Queen pulled away from him. “You shouldn’t laugh, Jae. I am sure the Citadel right now has a philosophical discussion right now about the color of water. It is a valid question.”

The King held his arms open, smiling, “Aly, you are right. I was only teasing. Come here and look at the falls with me.”

Alysanne shook her head and Silverwing snorted. Vermithor growled.

 

Jaehaerys took a step closer, “Come, Alysanne. I am sorry. Come warm me. I am cold. The cold suits you better. You have been here longer and now you dress as a Stark, all in furs like you are wild. Come and warm me. “

Alysanne laughed, “Perhaps, I tire of you and I prefer that you freeze. Perhaps, Lord Alaric would not keep me waiting so long all alone in my bed. Maybe I am more suited for Northern men.”

Jaehaerys smiled but she could see the flash of jealousy in his eyes. Laughing, he pulled her to him, “Alysanne, do not be cross. I was gone too long, but I am here now.”

Her blue eyes were full of laughter and she continued to tease Jaehaerys, “Perhaps, you have been gone too long. Mayhap, I would like a new husband.” 

Jaehaerys ran his fingers along her jaw and tilted her face towards his. Leaning in so close, she thought he would kiss her but instead, he spoke, “Than I must figure out a way to persuade you to take me back. What shall I do?” 

 

“A kiss to start.”

Alysanne pulled him to her and kissed him fiercely. When he pulled from her, Jaehaerys was laughing and the sun glinted in his eyes. She thought that the color of the light on the water was silver like her husband’s hair, silver like Silverwing, silver like the gilded banners edging of House Stark in the Great Hall. As she kissed him, she thought silver was the color of water, as well as the color of Winterfell.


	2. White

Jace had taken her flying with his dragon, Vermax. As they had flown over the wolfswood, Sara had laughed and pulled closer to him, her arms wrapped around his middle. He knew that he was acting rashly and that he needed to come to his senses. Jace had been promised to Baela since he was four. He was no second son, no commoner, who might choose to love anyone he pleased. Jacaerys Velaryon would be King of the Seven Kingdoms. Every decision he made, every action however small would echo across the Seven Kingdoms, especially since his uncle Aegon had falsely claimed the Iron Throne as his own.

 

Since he had been little, Jace had heard the snide comments and the laughter about who his real father might be. To counter these claims that he was a bastard, he had worked hard to be valiant, brave, responsible, and loved by the smallfolk. He knew he did not look like Mother or Father with his brown hair and brown eyes. But he would show everyone that he was as noble and true as any Targaryen King. 

Of course, that was before he came to Winterfell. Jace had only been here a few weeks but the hospitality of Lord Cregan Stark had made him not want to leave. Lord Stark and Jace were not close in age but still, they had enjoyed each other’s company; hawking, hunting, and talking until late in the night. He liked the honest and straight-forward manner of the Starks and their northern people. Of course, there was also Sara. Sara Snow was Cregan’s bastard sister and she was unlike any woman he had ever met. 

Sara had won his heart. Sometimes, he would try and talk himself out of it. It must be lust. It must be youthful foolishness. It must be something he had never truly felt before because no matter what he would convince himself, when he was near her, his resolve would disappear. Jace would be drawn to her. 

Sara was small, with long dark hair. She has blue eyes like the sky before sunset, a deep, smoky blue. She was not particularly lovely, but to him, Sarra Snow was stunning. When she laughed, it was a sound he wanted to hear again. She was funny and honest. She could ride a horse like it was the wind. Truth be told, Jacaerys Velaryon was madly in love with her.

Regardless of how he felt, tomorrow he would have to leave for Dragonstone. His Mother needed him to help fight for her claim. He had finished his business in Winterfell, making the Pact of Ice and Fire and could tarry no longer. The Pact said Lord Cregan and his Northmen would fight for the Blacks and a Targaryen princess would be wed to his son or grandson in the future. Of course, there was a little more. 

Jace knew regardless what he had done, he knew his mother would not care, not really. She loved him with her whole heart and would forgive him. When she saw how much he loved Sara, Mother would forgive him. His Step-father, Daemon Targaryen would care. He would care a great deal. After all, Baela was his daughter and Daemon Targaryen had wanted his daughter to be Queen. 

Jace had wished he had more time here. He would trade all the days he had wasted time to be with her here. In his ear, he heard Sarra laugh with joy as Vermax swooped and soared. Seeing a magnificent waterfall, he urged Vermax to land. The dragon touched down on the earth at his rider's command. Jace dismounted first and then helped Sara climb off the great beast's back. As the stood in front of the waterfall, Jace had a strange thought, What is the color of water?

He thought to himself that the water was white in the sunlight, reflecting the snow, the bright white sunlight in the grey sky. The water looked like white light made liquid, rushing over the rocks. White like her skin across her body, White like the snow on the roofs of Winterfell, White like the field in the sigil of House Stark. Suddenly, he heard the words of Cregan Stark, "Winter is coming."

Pushing the worry from his mind, he reached for Sara beside him. In his arms, Jace whispered in her ear, "Sara, aren't you cold?"

"No," she said, blushing, pushing away from him, playfully. 

 

Jace knew Baela would never forgive him but somehow that did not matter, even though she was his cousin and his family. He had done all they had asked for. Jace would fight this war and when it was done, he would come back for Sara. Baela could marry Joffrey. If need be, he would step down and let Joffrey be Prince of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne. He did not really want it. 

Jace loved Sarra and she loved him. There was no artifice. No games. Just her and him. Here in this place, anything was possible. Tomorrow he would leave but he would return for her. Last night, in their bed, he had promised her a dozen times that he would return. She had finally silenced him with her kisses. 

A week ago, in a moment of rare impulsivity, Jace had married her in the godswood by torchlight, with only her brother and some household staff as witnesses. If the Seven Kingdoms burned up in dragon fire, he wanted to know she was his wife. He would figure out a way to tell his family, after the war.

"Warm me, my Lady. I am cold." Jace said, all in black, his arms extended 

She giggled, dressed in white furs. "I will not. I am more than to keep you warm."

But she came to him anyway. Jace pulled her close and kissed her. "How pretty you will look beside me in King’s Landing! The smallfolk will love you. They will cheer to see the Princess of Dragonstone.

She laughed, "I care not about any crown or titles, Jace, We could stay here." 

He looked at her, brown eyes staring into blue, "We could...Let the war take all the rest. We could build a small house by this waterfall and be happy." 

He heard Vermax snort and roar gently, almost laughing. For a second, he imagined what it would be like to stay here. But Sarra knew he was teasing. After all, there was Mother and her claim. There was Joffrey. Aegon, and Viserys. There was his honor and his duty. Jace still had much to do, but the war would be over soon enough and he would have the rest of his days to be with her 

"I cannot," he said, softly. "My family. My duty."

"I understand," she said.

Her voice was soft and sad, but Sara's kiss was full of fire and heat. In the soft falling snow, while Vermax kept watch, the two lovers kissed.


	3. Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys and Jon- Season 8- episode 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So--- I had wanted to finish this for weeks but life has gotten busy. Anyway, for those who read the books, peaches symbolize hopes and dreams. However, when characters eat peaches, it usually means they will not get succeed in their dreams. 
> 
> I really wish they could have worked... :(

Daenerys could not remember when she had felt so happy or safe. This is a strange feeling since the world could end in a few days. The army of the dead have broken the Wall and they are coming, as well as Cersei Lannister and her gold and armies, plotting in the South. She knows she should be worried and fear should be in her heart. But Daenerys has always lived with enemies who wanted her dead. They have attempted to kill her at least a hundred times. Her enemies have taken her dragon, her son, her husband. She has had thousands of betrayals and her tears have spilled down her cheeks alone in the dark. She is too proud to cry in front of anyone. Only Viserys ever saw her cry when she was too young to know better than to show weakness. 

However, she thinks she may have found someone else she could trust enough to let all her tears fall. It is a sweet thought. But Daenerys has no place in her heart for tears. Anyway, she is a queen, a khaleesi, a conqueror. She will not cry.

However, she knows why she is so happy and why she feels safe. It is this man who she teased until he climbed upon Rhaegal's back, Jon Snow. Jon is her happiness and when he smiles at her, a warmth fills her heart always. 

As Drogon touches down beside Rhaegal, Daenerys Targaryen knows the truth of it. She is wildly in love with Jon Snow. 

Jon Snow is a man of legends. He is as wild as his lands, the North. His hair curls black around his shoulders and his eyes are dark. Jon has saved his people time and time again. He was murdered by treachery and brought back by magic and flame. He has a great white wolf who follows him into battle as if he was a dog and not a wild beast. Now, Jon Snow has flown on the back of one of the two dragons left in the world, and he has no fear in his eyes, only wonder. She is gladdened to see his smile. Too often, Jon Snow is quiet and brooding. 

Jon is the heart of this quiet place, this great white wilderness called the North... 

Jon has already dismounted by the time Drogon lands. He has landed in front of a great waterfall. It is breathtaking, all white smoke and black rock. Briefly, Daenerys wonders what color would she call the color of the water against the steel-white sky. She thinks the water is grey. Grey like the stones of Winterfell. Grey like Jon’s eyes. Grey like the sky before it snows. She could not begin to describe the way the water looked against falling snow. It looked like the earth falling away on the back of a dragon. It looked like Jon beneath her, his eyes dark and half-lidded. It was as beautiful as the Iron Throne would look when she won it back. 

 

Drogon roared and Rhaegal replied. No person had ever dared to get so close to her dragon, never mind ride him. What kind of man would ride Rhaegal? A man beyond fear. A wild man. A man of legends. Jon Snow was a man like her, a legendary figure. She had given birth to dragons and magic and he had come back from the dead to save his people. Jon Snow was a man strong enough, brave enough, to sit beside her as her consort. 

Last night as she had fallen asleep in his arms, Daenerys had decided she would marry him when she won the Iron Throne. This dark man with his sadness and his honor would be her consort. She had almost asked him to marry her but she would wait and when she was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Daenerys would marry him. 

With a hopeful joy, Daenerys spoke, amazed at the falls and the way her heart ached beside him, “We could stay here for a thousand years.”

Jon spoke something silly about they would be very old. He did not understand. Jon was not the kind of man for poetry or metaphor. Daario would have appreciated it. He would have said something even more flowery back about her beauty or his sword. Jon did not speak in metaphor. He was practical. 

She smiles at how little Jon Snow knows. Sometimes, she feels like Jon could care less if she is the queen. He does not care. He does not care for power or fame or gold. When he looks at her, Daenerys knows he only wants his people safe and her in his arms. When she is the Queen, Daenerys will teach him what power can do. They will make a safe world for all people. He will help her break the wheel.

 

When he takes her in his arms and kisses her, Daenerys feels her heart quicken. This morning when they made love, as he pushed his way between her legs with sweet words and warm sleepy kisses, Daenerys had prayed that she would get pregnant. Perhaps, Jon was right and there was no curse. The witch would be wrong. Her body quickened beneath his skilled fingers every time he touched her. Perhaps, her womb would quicken as well. 

 

She finds she cannot get enough of him in bed. While they are in each other’s arms, he lingers on her bones; her collar bone, her hip bones, her ribs, her shoulder bones, her knees, as if he likes her very structure, the core of her. He wants to learn her nature and he follows the paths of her bones. Jon is a stranger. He has no understanding of her ways or her past, but she would like for him to learn them. 

 

On the boat back to the North, they had brought a barrel of peaches. The last batch of peaches from the Reach before winter. For the entire trip, they had eaten peaches. Sweet peaches on the dark grey water. Jon had loved the taste of them. He ate three or four at a time. Once she had teased him for eating so many, Jon had smiled and said, “They taste like summer.”

Even now, when she kisses him, Daenerys can still taste peaches. She finds she loves the taste that lingers on his lips.

Here in this wild place, in the arms of her dark-haired love, as dragons watch and grey water falls, Daenerys is certain finally that everything will work out and all her dreams will come to pass.


End file.
